If It's Worth Saving Me
by 4evrwithSirius
Summary: "I'm not going to push you away." She tensed and her knuckles whitened as her grip increased on the door handle. "It doesn't matter to me. I don't blame you. I can't blame you. You didn't do this. But you have to choose."


**AN: **Rated T for references to rape, torture, and suicide.

The ideas of this story were further inspired by Timshel by Mumford and Sons and Dean's experience in hell in Supernatural.

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"_I'm not going to push you away."_

_She tensed and her knuckles whitened as her grip increased on the door handle._

"_It doesn't matter to me. I don't blame you. I _can't_ blame you. You didn't do this. But you have to choose."_

I blamed myself really. How could I blame her for something that was done_ to _her? It's been a long time coming I suppose. Almost a year now that I think about it….

_I could see the panic that had slowly been consuming her flare in her eyes. The fire that I love so much was gone. I wonder if I'll ever see it again._

They had been together for a year and a half when they had the argument. She was furious, her hair sizzling with sparks as her temper and magic flared. "Why? Why can't you tell me?" She was trying not to let her pain color her words.

And all I could do was look at her. I desperately wanted to speak the words that she wanted to hear but they caught in my throat. "You know I do. Why do you need to hear it?" I knew the answer. She wanted the verbal proof. I would tell her anything she wanted to hear, but I couldn't say _that_. I trusted her but I couldn't keep the doubt from nagging at the back of my mind that she would be like the others and throw it in my face.

She just stared at me in disbelief. She shook her head as though trying to dismiss a thought and turned and walked out the door. That was the last time I saw her before… well before it happened.

She had patronused Ron to tell him she was going to his flat. But he didn't make it in time and she never showed up. I had sunken into my own shadows and was nursing a bottle of Firewhiskey when Remus had Flooed me. I could tell from the look on his face that something was not right. It was either Harry or her. And I prayed to a god I can't believe in that it was Harry because he stood a fighting chance. God let me down.

The first time I saw Ron I nearly strangled him. "You KNEW! You knew there was a price on her head! You knew that she shouldn't be on her own! You _KNOW_ that it's dangerous for her! Why didn't you fucking show up when she called for you!?" Remus' hand on my shoulder pulled me out of my rage long enough to see that Ron was turning blue and that the room had gone cold with silence.

I stepped back and wiped the warm tears from my face, trying to hide my grief from the rest of the room. Molly looked close to tears. Ron and Harry weren't bothering.

I left and sat alone with myself to wallow in misery. All I could think about was how she had saved me but I couldn't save her. No one even knew where to begin looking. It wasn't a guarantee that she'd been taken by snatchers or even rogue Death Eaters. There was no ransom, no blackmail, nothing. We weren't even sure where along the journey from our place to Ron's she disappeared. I couldn't save her. I couldn't repay her. I couldn't thank her for what she had done for me. And I couldn't tell her that I… Fuck. Even now I can't even bring myself to think it.

She had been the one to find me. I was spat out of that damned curtain about a month after the war was over. And she had found me broken and bruised but with no physical damage. She was the only one who saw how damaged I truly was, the hell that I had gone through. She dedicated her life to finding out how I got back but I didn't and still don't give a damn. I was back. I had Harry. I had Remus. I could live my life for once. But most importantly I had her.

She was the one who had dried my eyes and whispered soothing nothings to me when I woke up from my nightmares. It was in those moments where I had some semblance of where I actually was and that this second chance I had been given was not itself the nightmare. I never told her what I dreamed of or what went on behind the curtain. She never asked. But I always got the feeling that she knew. That she could just look at me and see what I had seen. Very Dumbledore-esque…

I'm still not quite sure how it happened, us getting together. I'm not quite sure when I noticed that she had grown from a girl that I admired for her courage and heart and sometimes overzealous need to protect everyone she met to a woman that was still fierce and brilliant but had grown into her own and new where her boundaries were. It doesn't matter. I care for her and she cares for me.

About two months later Remus had dragged my drunken ass to his cottage to shower and sober up. We were there for a few days when we were walking in the forest around his cottage. "They want you to start making funeral plans." I stopped short. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his scarred face defeated.

"No. I can't. I won't. It's only been two months! How can they-"

"Sirius I don't want them to either. But you have to understand that we don't have any leads. There's nothing. She just disappeared. And I hate it. You have to know that I do. But I'm just the messenger. Don't shoot me."

I furrowed my brow and was about to ask how I would shoot him but he waved his hand dismissingly and I guessed he was using a Muggle phrase. I was about to ask how they had given up so hope so easily when he tensed at something the wolf in him could hear and I felt my magic tingle in warning. Remus didn't move but I could read his face. I transformed into Snuffles and sniffed along the path. There was an oddly shaped pile of leaves up the ways. Sniffing it, I froze as I smelt blood. Nuzzling some of the leaves, I jumped back as her face was uncovered from the debris.

"Remus! REMUS! It's her! She's here. I can't tell… I can't tell- I don't know. Is she-?" Remus pushed me aside as I tried to organize my thoughts. She looked awful. She was covered in blood, her clothes were torn and her face looked as though she had beaten to death. My heart constricted as I came to that thought. "Remus they left her for dead. They left her! Is she-?" He cut me off with a glare and he leaned over her, continuing to check her for any sign of life. He slouched and took a deep breath and turned to me with tears running down his face. He gave me a weak smile and took my hand. I flinched. He ignored it and placed my hand on the junction of her neck and chest. There was a fluttering and I knew she was alive.

I sat with her head in my lap, sobbing and whispering nothings until a team of healers arrived. And I refused to let go of her hand the whole way to St. Mungo's. I couldn't leave her again.

She woke up two weeks later physically, but mentally it was like she'd disappeared when she left me and had yet to return.

She woke up every night screaming and for the first few days didn't notice that I was the one by her side comforting her until she slept again. But when she came to a little more she would panic even more when I approached. I steeled myself and said nothing. Not to Harry. Not to Remus. Not to anyone.

The healers told me I couldn't stay by her side anymore. She was too upset. So I listened to snippets by her doorside and trained my ears to whispered conversations. The things that they suspected had been done to her… It made Bellatrix's torture of her at Malfoy Manor look like a teaparty. And they told me that that they didn't think she'd ever be able to have kids. The damage that had been done was irreparable, even with magic. If she had been found right after they had forced it out of her it might be different.

I had never thought about having a family before I heard I couldn't have one. I didn't think I'd be a good father. Harry disagreed. Remus did too. But it didn't matter. All I wanted was her opinion and she wouldn't give me one.

She came home with me a month later. But I could tell that something wasn't right. The healers had done everything they could for her physically but since she wouldn't talk no one knew what the mental damage was, no one knew how to help her.

Every time someone got close to her, she flinched. I reached out to brush the hair out of her eyes once as she read and she started screaming. She fled to the corner of the room, curling in on herself for protection. That was the first time I ever saw the demon in her. Not to say she was possessed. Not exactly anyways. More like she was consumed with a panic that took her humanity away. When I saw that panic in her eyes, she was not there. It was as though she could not see or breathe or think for herself. It took half an hour to get her out of that corner.

A few months later, she had seemed more like herself. She was still skittish but she had laughed and she had smiled and the fire in her eyes had begun to return. I had hope. I was trying not to push her on anything and she took the initiative to sleep in my bed with me. And I was feeling like myself too. Because she was my life and without her I was nothing but the tortured shadow that came out of the veil.

And then the demon in her was back. And I was lost again. I can still hear the screams in my nightmares. She backed herself into a corner and was screaming at the top of her lungs "Help me! Help me!" I can hear it as clear as if I was still there. The panic that I have grown accustomed to seeing gripped her. She could not even see me right in front of her. I think a part of me died that day. I went to stay with Remus and Molly went to take care of her. Not even Harry could pry the Firewhiskey from my grip.

I didn't want to face her. She thought _I _was the enemy. All I wanted to do was save her because it was worth saving her. Because so many people had looked to her for guidance, for hope, for courage. And I didn't believe that she was dead.

Remus dragged me back to her a few weeks later. She didn't say anything and I didn't either. There were no words for me to say. And so it went on.

Week after week passed with the little things catching my eye. I would walk into the kitchen to grab something and I would see her staring aimlessly into the garden, her fingers running smoothly over the sharp edge of a butcher knife. That actually happened more than once.

About four months ago I had returned to the house from a drive on my motorcycle and my magic sizzled, my hair standing on end. The whole house was burning with magic, as if struggling to remain intact against the force being shoved against it. She was shuffling around in the drawing room, her wand being twiddled between her fingers, singing slurs of Latin words. I could feel the magic building and pulsing, threatening to explode and drag her with it. I wrenched her wand from her with an effort I didn't think it would take. She blinked rather owlishly at me and left the drawing room without a word. I couldn't perform a bloody levitation spell for a week.

I felt like the demon that she saw me as. I didn't want to take her wand from her and be the prison ward that had held her for those two months. But she was dangerous and I couldn't take the chance that she would succeed one day at what had failed that day.

She would stand on the edge of the roof, overlooking the city, one foot dangling as though she was prepared to fall. She would stare out the window listlessly as though only her reflection had any meaning to her. She would sink below the water in her bath and each time took a little longer to come up for air. She had taken to only wearing long sleeved robes and flinched more violently than usual when someone reached for her hand or arm. I may not be brilliant but I'm not oblivious.

She was breaking me day by day. The only one that I wanted didn't want. Period.

I think what had always gotten to me the most was the look in her eyes. She always looked like she could see through people, see the demons in their heart and take on the shadow in their souls. I always felt like my heart was constricted whenever she looked at me like that. She would look at me like she _knew_ what I had seen and done. The shadow that haunted me on my return from Azkaban and the veil now haunted her. If the eyes are windows to the soul then hers is more tortured than mine. All the souls that I had tortured in hell now tortured her.

But I was growing tired. Everything about her exhausted me. I would care for her always but how can you save someone that doesn't want to be saved? Ron had no opinion. He tended to stay away from her. I think it's the guilt. He doesn't want those eyes to tell him that it is his fault. Harry tried to help but he's busy with trying to catch the people who took her from me. Remus tried to be helpful too but I knew that he was more here for my support than for hers. And the Weasley's of course tried to help but it's hard when you haven't been through something similar. And I don't know about her family. As far as I know they think she's still missing, dead by now.

But I needed to know if she even wanted help. The screams that had sent me running months ago now echoed in my head. I wonder if that's the most coherent she's been, the most free from the demon inside of her since she returned.

And that's how we're here.

"I need to know. Do you even want to be here?"

She tensed and looked poised to flee from the door as soon as it opened, the panic fresh in her eyes. I took a step forward and she flinched.

"Stop. Just stop. Listen to me! I _love _you!"

Her hand nearly dropped from the door and she relaxed slightly. Her right foot shifted slightly on the ground to face me more and her jaw was no longer clenched. There was a flicker I can't quite name in her eyes.

"I love you. I love you with all your complications and complexities. I love you when you're angry or sad or happy or defensive. I love you for always needing to protect someone. I love you for choosing to protect me. I love you despite always needing to prove that you belong here. Because you do. You belong with _me_. I love you when your hair sparks when you're furious. I love the dimple in your cheek when you truly smile. I love your laugh. I love your brilliance. I love the way you have to sit on your hands when you are trying to keep quiet. I love that you are an amazing friend. I love your loyalty. I love _you_."

Her eyes flickered and her brow furrowed slightly. I took another step closer and reached to touch her face. She blinked but didn't flinch.

"You feel cold. You feel like you're drowning. Like there's no way out. But you aren't alone. I'm right here. It doesn't matter to me what they did to you because they did it not you. It doesn't matter that we can't have a family. There are other ways if we change our mind. It doesn't matter to me you're afraid. I understand.

"I don't care that you have scars. They are proof that you survived. They are a medal for your fight. Because I know you fought back. I know you. And I love you. It's over a year too late but I love you. But I need to know that you won't take the easy way out and just survive. I need you to live. I need you to live…"

My throat suddenly feels tight and I can't finish the sentence. I can't tell her to live with me if she doesn't want it. I feel something warm on my thumb and look into her reddening eyes. She worries her lip and her brow furrows further, a sure sign that she is thinking. Her weight shifts from one foot to another and her grip slackens again on the door handle.

"I will love you no matter what. Forever. No matter where you are or who you're with. I will love you. And I will hope for you. But I can't save you if you don't want to be saved. It is worth saving you. You've already saved me. But now I need you to choose. If you walk out that door, I can't be the one to save you."

I step back and slowly remove my hand from her cheek. She closes her eyes at the loss, a few stray tears running down her cheek. She tenses and her grip tightens on the door handle and I think she's going to leave. Somewhere in my chest, my heart constricts.

She takes a step toward me, her hand still on the handle. The panic flickers in her eyes before being extinguished. For the first time in over a year I am looking at her and not her possession. She takes another step toward me and into my arms. She mumbles something I can't decipher but I can guess.

"It is worth saving you."

The scream that has been echoing in my mind fades and I feel the demon in us flee for the first time in over a year.

She leans back slightly and whispers, "I choose you."

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**AN: **I didn't mean for it to get kind of sappy at the end. I didn't like my original ending and then I didn't know where to take it from there. There were a lot more ideas floating around for this story but it was very hard to fit it all in. One day I might go back and try to add to this story.


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